As if on cue, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Giving him a wry smile, she pulled it out and read the text. “It’s from Lesa. Checking up on me.” She sighed and put it back in her pocket. “I understand why she’s worried, and Mum. Of course I do. They both feel guilty that they didn’t realize how bad I was. But now they’re afraid to let me out of their sight in case I do it again. They hate that I’m spending Christmas alone. It makes sense, but I just knew I had to get away. I feel like a different person than the woman who went to hospital in February. I need to prove to everyone—to myself—that I am different. That I can do this.”
“Did you tell them you’re with me?” he asked.
“No. I wanted to keep you to myself.”
He tipped his head to the side, and smiled. Then he rose, took a few steps toward her, and held out his left hand.
Surprised and puzzled, she placed her right one into it, and let him pull her to her feet. He put his right hand on her waist and moved a bit closer.
“Dance with me,” he said.
Bing Crosby was now singing White Christmas, but it felt a lot more magical than it had in the service station. Angel looked up into Hal’s eyes before resting her hand on his shoulder. Together, they began to move to the music.
Her heart banged against her ribs and it was hard to breathe, but he would never have known, because apart from Crosby’s voice, everything was quiet and still, as if the island itself was holding its breath.
“It’s snowing,” Hal murmured, and she looked out of the window to see light flakes floating down, covering the road in a fine layer of white.
“Oh,” she whispered. “What will you do if the kids get snowed in?”
“It’s too light to start laying at the moment. It looks as if we’ll have a real white Christmas, though.”
She smiled, Bing’s beautiful voice crooning the words as they swayed.
For a while, they didn’t say anything else.
Angel looked at where Hal’s hand held her own. His seemed a lot bigger than her own fine-boned hand, and his skin was warm and a shade darker than hers. Up close, she could smell the same scent she’d smelled on his sweatshirt. He was quite a bit taller than her, too; if she were to lean close and tilt her head slightly, she’d be able to press her lips to the hollow of his throat.
She didn’t. But she could have.
His right hand rested in the small of her back, and she could hear him humming, the sound reverberating through him. Jeez, he was handsome. But he was just being kind, she reminded herself.
“Hal?” she asked softly.
“Mmm?”
“Why did you ask me to dance?”
“Because I’m full of admiration that you’ve been through so much, and come through it so well. I know you were joking about being a shield maiden, but you could put most of them to shame.”
Her face grew hot. “Now I know you’re joking.”
“I’m really not. Courage isn’t about not being scared—it’s about doing things despite being scared. You hit rock bottom, and it would have been so easy to stay there, but you picked yourself up and dusted yourself down, and you’re rebuilding yourself, brick by brick. Don’t you think that’s the stuff of Viking legend?”
A hot tear ran down her cheek. She brushed it away hastily, but another seemed determined to follow its path.
“Aw,” he said. “Come here.” He dropped her hand and wrapped his arms around her, and she gave in, slid her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his sweater.
Chapter Fourteen
Judy Garland was now singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Hal continued to move to the music, Angel swaying with him. She was warm in his arms, which pleased him. He’d thought she might feel fragile, the way he felt when trying to hold a china cup with his big fingers, but she didn’t—she was solid, tall, and curvy.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” she murmured.
“I don’t,” he said truthfully. He liked the way she was fighting her emotion, determined not to give in to it. She’d painted a portrait of herself as a drama queen, needy and desperate for attention, but he didn’t see that at all.
He did feel sad that she’d been driven to the point where she’d been so low she’d tried to take her own life. Some people said it was cowardice, but he suspected those people had never suffered from depression, and had no idea of the depth of the pit into which a person could fall.
That she’d chosen to go away at Christmas and cope on her own impressed him. She might have grown up relying on others, and she’d had a terrible time with her fertility problems and her ex, but she obviously had enough inner strength to want to change that now.
“I hope Santa brings you everything you wished for,” he said.
It was only as the words left his lips that he remembered what had been last on the list, and chuckled.
Angel rested her forehead on his shoulder, hiding her face. “I can’t believe you read that.”
“Sounded perfectly reasonable to me.”
She laughed and moved back a few inches, resting her hands on his chest. Then she looked up at him.
He was still smiling, but it faded as their gazes locked, and her lips parted.
Jesus, she was beautiful, her hair glowing like a halo in the firelight, her eyes glittering. His heart skipped a beat, then pounded twice as hard as usual, driving his blood through his veins at a million miles an hour.
He wanted to kiss her.
He had to be careful, though. He’d told her they should be friends, and that he didn’t expect anything else. To kiss her now would be betraying any trust she’d placed in him, and the last thing he needed to do was to upset her.
She blinked a few times, looking uncertain, and he thought maybe she wanted to kiss him too, but didn’t know how to say it, afraid of making a fool of herself, or suggesting it and having him say she’d misread the signs.
Screw it. Life was too short to miss an opportunity like this.
“I meant what I said,” he told her, “about wanting to be your friend, and not expecting anything else. And if that’s all you want, I’ll be happy.” He couldn’t tell what she was thinking from her expression. Her eyes had widened, and she wasn’t smiling. It was too late to turn back now, though. “I’d like to kiss you,” he said. “Because it’s nearly Christmas, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve had such a beautiful woman in my arms, and you’ve lit something inside me, Angel Matthews, that doesn’t seem to want to be extinguished. Just a kiss. But if you’d rather not, I understand.”
She smiled, and her gaze rested on his mouth in a way that sent his heart pounding.
“I’d like that,” she whispered.
His heart lifting, he raised his hands to cup her face and brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
“Merry—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he lowered his lips to hers.
Angel inhaled deeply, her hands clutching at his sweater, and he closed his eyes, his head spinning. Christ, how long had it been since he’d done this? He’d forgotten the beauty of kissing a woman, of how soft their mouths were, and how it fired him up to have a girl so willing and yielding in his arms, as if she could think of nothing more wonderful than having him kiss her.
He lowered one arm around her waist and moved the other around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to him, and Angel lifted her arms around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair. Her nails scraped against his scalp, sending hairs rising all across his body.
She tasted sweet, of the brandy she’d been drinking, and she smelled of Christmas, of lemon and cinnamon, like a hot toddy made to warm his blood.
“Mmm,” she murmured, and that one whispered sound, and the way she lifted onto her tiptoes to mold herself against him, sent all his bells ringing as if it were Christmas Day.
He took his time, kissing across her lips from one corner to the other, soft, light, gentle kisses, even though his body be
gged him for more. That wasn’t what this was about. He wanted to earn her trust, and show her that there was no rush, no need to do this at a million miles an hour. The mood wasn’t right for that. It was snowing outside, but warm inside, and Garland was romancing them, and it just felt right to Hal to press his lips to Angel’s, to enjoy being close to a woman again, and to show her how much he liked her.
When he eventually lifted his head, Angel’s eyelids were at half mast, her cheeks rosy pink.
“Wow,” she said.
“Mmm.” He smiled and kissed her nose. “You smell of Christmas.”
She splayed her hands on his chest and pressed her lips together. “Thank you.”
“Thank you. I needed that.”
She laughed and moved back, bending to pick up her purse. “Me too. Now, I should go, before it gets too late.”
He wanted to ask her to stay, but he didn’t want to rush things, and he accepted that she might need a little time to think about this. So he followed her out to the hallway, and watched her pull on her boots. Then he held her coat up so she could slip her arms into it. She zipped it up, and he opened the door.
“I’d walk you home,” he said, “but I can’t really leave the kids, even if it isn’t far.”
“Of course not. It doesn’t feel as if the island is a crime den, anyway. I’ll be fine.”
They both stood there for a moment, looking at the silent world outside, the snow falling in the light of the streetlamps. There was a sense of something hanging in the air—maybe the joint excitement of all the children for miles around, or the promise of a brighter future for him, sparkling like tinsel.
“There’s something magical here,” Angel said softly. Then she turned to look up at him. “Or maybe I feel that because you kissed me. You’re very good at it.”
Encouraged by the impish light in her eyes, he couldn’t help himself—he moved closer to her, forcing her to take a step back against the door, and lowered his lips to hers again, pinning her there. His hands found hers down by their sides, and their fingers linked and tightened. Angel gave a little, sexy moan deep in her throat, and in answer he brushed his tongue across her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, inviting him in, and he swept his tongue inside, his whole body filling with heat.
They exchanged a long, lingering, sensual kiss, and this time when he finally pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.
“Way to turn the dial up to eleven,” she said, blowing out a breath.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t mean that,” she admonished, pushing his arm.
“No, I don’t.”
She laughed and stepped outside. “You make me feel a hundred pounds lighter, Halvar Carlson, do you know that?” Spreading her arms, she lifted her face and turned full circle, snow falling on her lips and eyelashes.
Hal leaned against the doorjamb and watched her. He was tempted to grab her, lift her over his shoulder, take her back indoors, and make love to her in front of the fire, but he clenched his fists inside the pockets of his jeans and made himself stand still.
Lowering her arms, she turned to look at him. Her face bore a beautiful smile, and her eyes were filled with light.
“Goodnight,” she said.
“’Night, Angel.”
She walked away, throwing him a brief smile over her shoulder before she disappeared around the corner.
Hal stood there for another minute, watching the snow, before he finally went inside.
ANGEL WALKED BACK TO her cottage, tingling all over, her mind swirling like the snowflakes falling in the light of the streetlamps.
Halfway back, she stopped and looked around her. The town was empty, everyone tucked away in their houses, or drinking at the pub at the end of the road, from which she could hear faint music. This street had several tall trees along its length, and each of them had been interlaced with white fairy lights.
It was all nonsense, all in her head, but she felt as if she’d been spirited somewhere magical.
He’d kissed her. Oh dear God, he’d really kissed her. The first had been like a mug of tea, warming, comforting, and gentle. He’d been tentative, as if afraid he might frighten her away, his mouth moving across hers with such tenderness that she’d nearly cried.
In comparison, when he’d pushed her up against the door and kissed her the second time, it had been like drinking a shot of brandy, searing right through her. Yowza. If there had been any small part of her that had remained frozen, it had certainly thawed now.
She closed her eyes, remembering the way his hands had tightened on hers, and the feel of his young, strong body pressed up against her, pinning her to the door. She’d been so tempted to push him back into the living room, strip off in front of the fire, and make love to him there and then.
But his kids were asleep in their rooms, and she wasn’t sure he wanted that. Okay, she was pretty sure, but it would be stupid to give in to her hormones and leap into bed with this man without giving it further thought.
She proceeded along the road toward her cottage, her hands jammed deep in her pockets. The snow wasn’t laying yet, but if the flakes grew any thicker, it definitely would.
So, was she thinking about having a holiday fling with Hal? She chewed her bottom lip, her whole body warming through. She’d never had a one-night stand, and all her relationships had started with at least a month of friendship. Eoin she’d known for six months before they’d eventually gotten together.
And it obviously couldn’t develop into anything more, because she lived so far away. It would be idiotic to start a long-distance relationship. She couldn’t see herself driving six hours to visit him every weekend. And of course, he had a family, so even if she were to do that, he’d want to spend a lot of time with his kids.
The glow that had surrounded her faded a little. Honestly, what was she doing? She’d come here to be a hermit, to get away from people, and to think about her future. How could kissing Halvar Carlson fit into that?
But it had been a spectacular kiss...
The glow brightened a bit. She was getting far too serious about life. Santa had just given her the best Christmas present ever. A gorgeous guy—the very one who’d saved her life—had snogged her, and she didn’t have to think about forever or worry about anything except that it was nearly Christmas, and it had felt nice, and she rather liked the stoic Viking. Why did it have to mean more than that?
She wasn’t going to spend hours analyzing this from fifty different angles, or panicking about what it meant and where it was going. She was just going to enjoy it, and let tomorrow take care of itself.
Angel jogged the rest of the distance to the cottage, not wanting to be out in the cold for too long. Once inside, she banked up the fire, poured herself a glass of wine, and curled up on the sofa with a blanket and a few squares of chocolate.
She read three chapters of a book, then put it down and picked up her journal. Smiling, she started a new entry.
Dear Santa,
I can explain...
I know I said I was coming to Holy Island to get away from people, and to be on my own. I really didn’t mean to kiss Hal. But it seemed rude to say no :-)
I haven’t changed my mind—I’m still here to evaluate my life, and to think about where I go from now.
But that one little kiss—okay, sorry, two little kisses—made my day. So, if you had anything to do with them, I just wanted to say thank you!
She closed the journal, still smiling, then settled down to watch Love Actually on the TV.
Chapter Fifteen
Christmas Eve dawned bright and cold.
Angel rose early, and in good spirits. She looked out of the bedroom window to discover the garden covered with a thin dusting of snow, the bird bath frozen over with a layer of ice. The small flakes had yet to thicken, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before it started to fall in earnest. It looked like she really was going to have a white Christmas!
Humming the song, s
he made up the fire, took a hot shower, dressed, and ate a big bowl of steaming porridge in front of the now leaping flames while she read her emails.
She’d been hoping to hear about a job she’d applied for in Cardiff, working at a field unit, but the only emails she had were one from Lesa, some from friends on Facebook with Christmas messages, a couple of historical newsletters she’d signed up to, and a special offer from her local beauty parlor. She probably wouldn’t hear about the job until the New Year now, if she heard at all.
Refusing to let it dampen her spirits, she washed up the breakfast bowl and her mug, then folded up the rest of her washing now it had all completely dried in front of the fire.
It was Christmas Eve, and she had no plans for the day. She supposed it should have depressed her, but oddly it did the opposite—she felt a sense of liberation she hadn’t felt for some time at the thought that her time was her own.
Her mind lingered briefly on Hal. She’d gone to sleep remembering the touch of his lips on hers, and she had a feeling she’d dreamed about him too, something about standing on the beach and watching him sail toward her in a longboat. Typical that her brain assumed she was the Saxon about to be invaded and not one of the shield maidens on board the ship.
Would she see him again today? They hadn’t made plans to meet up, and she knew he’d have the children until the tides changed after two o’clock. Would he contact her then? She didn’t know, and she wasn’t going to pin her hopes on it. She would go about her day, and if she bumped into him, it would be a bonus.
So, wrapping up warmly with a sweater, her coat, some mittens, and boots, she set off for a walk. There wouldn’t be any point in visiting the castle as she’d read it was shut until the twenty-seventh, so instead she chose a circular route from her guide book with the aim of visiting as many of the island’s attractions as possible.
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